


Of Ghosts and Baseball Bats

by Ichabodjane



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ichabodjane/pseuds/Ichabodjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke takes advantage of an empty house to indulge in guilty TV pleasures.  But her quiet evening gets interrupted when the power goes out and she starts hearing mysterious thumps from upstairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in response to a Tumblr prompt. "Have you lost your damn mind?"  
> It is one shot for now but could potentially be expanded, since I kind of fell in love with the everyone-lives-in-a-house-together concept.

Clarke knew it was a mistake.  She knew she would regret it.  

She knew, but she did it anyway.

It wasn’t often that she got the house to herself for a whole night.  With six roommates, it was hard to manage.  Not that she wasn’t happy with her accommodation.  The rambling Victorian mansion stood in one of the nicer parts of town and it was in good condition, if slightly shabby.  It had been left to Jasper’s parents by some long-distant relative and, at a loss for what to do with the place, they started renting out the bedrooms to their son’s college friends.  The house was usually full of noise- Raven’s power tools in the basement, Monty and Jasper’s video games in the living room, Octavia’s music upstairs or Harper humming to herself as she made yet another batch of mouth-watering pastries.

Clarke mostly enjoyed it.  Growing up as an only child had been pretty lonely and it was nice to know she had company whenever she wanted it, and the constant sounds of human habitation formed a reassuring backdrop to her home life.  But occasionally, just occasionally, she craved one night completely to herself.  So she wasn’t too upset to find the place empty one rainy Friday.  Harper had gone home to see her parents, Octavia was at a 24-hour film festival, and Raven, Monty, and Jasper had met up with some other people for a camping trip.  Bellamy was at Roma’s, though this last bit of information she had courtesy of Octavia.  

“Bell’s going over to that girl’s tonight,” she had said, pulling a face.  Octavia was not Roma’s biggest fan.  “Just so you know.  Lock the door, okay?  Don’t want any axe murderers wandering in.  You going to be alright on your own?”  

“Its one night, I think I can survive,” Clarke smiled.  She had noticed right off the bat how protective the Blake siblings were with each other and that often spilled over onto Octavia’s friends.  Jasper still talked about that one time at the sleazy bar, when Octavia had bloodied a guy’s nose for trying to cop a feel under Harper’s skirt.  

Bellamy almost never told anyone where he was going, aside from his sister and even then, he sometimes just up and disappeared for hours at a time without a word to anyone.  Clarke suspected that he used that air of mystery to separate himself out from the gaggle of freshman and sophomores who made up the rest of the household.  As if his taking the entire attic floor to himself wasn’t enough.  But he couldn’t afford to rent something anywhere near this side of town on his own and he apparently refused to live more than a mile from his sister, so here he was.  At least, here he was some of the time.

But Clarke didn’t want to think about Bellamy.  Or Octavia.  Or any of her other roommates for that matter.  She had a date with the huge flat screen in the living room, the one with a top of the line surround sound system.  Jasper and Monty usually dominated it with Call of War or Grand Theft Kill Pedestrians, or whatever it was they played.  But tonight…tonight, it was all hers.  And she knew exactly what she wanted to do with it.

Clarke wasn’t sure when exactly her obsession with paranormal shows had started.  Maybe it was the week she had the flu and couldn’t muster the strength to change the channel when _Celebrity Ghost Stories_ came on.  But within two days, she was a complete addict.  After _Celebrity Ghost Stories_ , it was _A Haunting_ , _The Haunted_ , and occasionally _Ghost Adventures_ (when she wanted a laugh).  Now, she was working her way through _Paranormal Witness_.  Her habit fell squarely into the Guilty Pleasure category and she almost always watched these things on her laptop, with her headphones in, and facing the door so she could throw on her screen saver if someone barged in unexpectedly (not an infrequent occurrence).  But tonight?  Tonight that entertainment system was all hers.  And she was going to make _Paranormal Witness_ her bitch.

Three hours after the door shut behind Octavia, Clarke was curled up in a ball on the couch, occasionally shoveling handfuls of popcorn into her mouth, and judging haunted people for their life choices.  She completely ignored the occasional flashes of lighting that lit up the raindrops hitting the old bay window next to her.

“Why would you even buy that house?!” she yelled, “Its practically got ‘I am home to a violent ghost’ written on the front door!”

Five minutes later, it was, “Don’t fucking go down there!  Why would you go into a basement that you just heard demonic growling coming from?!”

Two minutes after that, she was hiding behind a pillow, ready to shriek the moment the ghost showed up.  Shrieking was her favorite part and she almost never got to do it out loud.

The idiot guy on screen was still creeping through his obviously-haunted-as-shit basement, while an unseen presence lurked behind him.  It crept closer and closer and Clarke slid further and further behind the pillow until it was right up behind him.  A pale and badly-CGI’d hand reached out to grab his shoulder-

But before the ghost could do anything, a bolt of lightning cracked the sky in half outside the window and, accompanied by an almighty roar of thunder, the power went out.  The house instantly went pitch-black, scaring a string of curse words out of Clarke’s mouth.

“Its okay,” she spoke to herself (a bad habit left over from her sibling-less childhood), “Its probably just a power line overload or whatever Raven called it.  You’re fine, we’ll just find a flashlight and grab some candles-”

Her pep talk was interrupted by a thump on the ceiling right above her head.

“Oh shit,” she squeaked.  Her voice dropped to a thready whisper, “Maybe…maybe its just the house settling.”

She heard another thump and then two creaks on slightly different parts of the floorboards.

“Haunted,” Clarke whimpered.

_Why the fuck had she let herself watch those shows all alone, in a 150 year old house???_

Octavia’s voice echoed in her head, “Don’t want any axe murderers wandering in.”

_Shit._

What if it was an axe murderer?

What if it was the _ghost_ of an axe murderer?

_Shit, shit, shit._

Clarke could feel herself descending into full-on freak out.  No, no, she couldn’t let herself do that.  This was her house.  And if something was in her house, she was going to damn well confront it. Before her nerves could falter, she launched herself off the couch and headed for the hall closet.  Raven had stuck a metal baseball bat in there on the day they moved in, “just in case.”  Well, Clarke figured now was as good a case as any.  

She felt better once her hands were wrapped around the cold metal.  Still terrified, but at least able to fight back against whatever had just made another thump.  She edged her way up the stairs, silent in her bare feet.  She paused at the top, leaning just far enough around the balustrade to peek at the end of the hall.  With the street lights out, it was almost completely black but a distant flicker of lightning was enough to illuminate a figure standing over the open window, trying to pull down the sash.

Someone was in the house.

Someone was _breaking into_ the house.

_Fuck._

_Fuckfuckfuck._

Surprise.  She had the element of surprise.  

And she planned to take it.

She tried to be quiet as she strode down the hallway but the floor must have creaked because the intruder turned a split second before she got in range.  Bellowing a war cry worthy of the Amazons, Clarke swung the bat with everything she had.  Her enemy ducked but wasn’t quite fast enough and she felt the bat just clip the top of his head as he went down into a heap on the floor.

“Jesus Christ, what the _fuck_?!?” the intruder yelled in an all-too-familiar voice, “Have you lost your damn _mind_?”

“ _ **Bellamy**_?!” Clarke dropped the bat in horror, “Have I lost my- Have _you_ lost _your_ mind?  What the _hell_ are you _doing_?!  Oh god, are you okay?!”  She crouched down to help him into a sitting position against the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing swinging a bat around?!” he demanded.

“ _Me_?!  What the shit are you doing climbing in through a goddamn window?” she bit back, still slightly reeling from the shock, “I thought you were a gho- an axe murderer!”

“An axe murderer breaks in and your first instinct is to go after him with a _baseball bat_?” he asked incredulously.

“Don’t change the subject!” she quipped.  Grabbing her phone out of the pocket of her robe, she flicked on a flashlight app and put it on the floor.  She could see him wincing and holding one hand firmly to the side of his head.  She pulled the hand away to check for blood.  Distantly, she noted that his curls were still wet from the rain. “Why were you crawling in through a window in the first place?”

“I forgot my house keys,” he flinched as her fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot, “Ow, fuck, what are you doing?”

“Assessing damage.  My mom’s a doctor, remember?  I know what I’m doing,” she picked up her phone and aimed the light at him, “Look at me,” she was relieved to see his pupils acting normally.  Hopefully, she hadn’t given him a concussion.  “Why didn’t you knock on the front door like a normal fucking person?”

“I thought nobody was home.  So I just climbed the drainpipe and jimmied the window open,” he pulled away from her hand, which had gone back to probing his scalp, “You done?”

She dropped the phone on the floor and rocked back onto her heels, “You ‘just climbed the drainpipe and jimmied the window open’?  What are you now, some kind of cat burglar?”

“You may not realize this, but I have quite the sketchy past, Princess,” he smirked.

Clarke pursed her lips.  That was the nickname he usually used when she said something that hinted at her very privileged upbringing.  She had pointed out, quite often, that Jasper was just as privileged and didn’t get a nickname stuck on _him_ , but Bellamy didn’t seem to give a damn.

Declining to comment on it this time, she pressed on, “Didn’t O tell you I was going to be here?”

“Didn’t ask,” he shrugged, “I just assumed you’d find someplace to go.  You don’t like being alone very much.”

Clarke was taken aback at that.  It was true, she usually preferred company at least in the house, if not in the same room.  But she hadn’t realized that Bellamy paid enough attention to her to notice.  “Well,” she raised an eyebrow, “I was home and you scared the bejesus out of me so that’s what the fuck I was doing swinging a bat around.”  She took her phone and stood up, extending her free hand towards him, “Come on, we should get some ice on that or else you’ll have an egg on your head in the morning.”

He might not have a concussion but the bat must have done something to him, because he took her hand and let her haul him to his feet and lead him to the kitchen without so much as an annoyed grunt.  Clarke fished a flashlight out of a drawer and a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer.  She pointed imperiously to the kitchen table and ordered him to, “Sit.”  To her surprise, he did as she said and didn’t protest when she pressed the peas to his head.  He didn’t normally tolerate being fussed over; she knew that from seeing his I-love-you-but-get-the-hell-away-from-me expression whenever Octavia tried to do it.  She held the bag there for a few moments before noticing that her hands were shaking from leftover adrenaline.  

“Hold that,” she took his hand and placed it where hers had been.  She went to the liquor cabinet (one of the largest in the kitchen) and poured herself a glass of the good bourbon.

“Hey, don’t I get any?” Bellamy grumbled, after she had taken a huge swig, “I’m the one who took a bat to the head.”

“You could have a concussion,” she pointed out, “Probably not the best idea.”

“Yeah, but isn’t whiskey medicinal?” he countered, smirking again.

“Oh yeah, definitely.  If we lived in 1925.”

His smirk widened, “I’m willing to play pretend.”

“Whatever,” she plopped down into the chair next to him and slid the glass over.

He sucked down as least as much as she had, “Damn, that’s some good stuff.”

“Yeah, my uncle owns a distillery outside of Louisville,” she took another gulp before draping one arm across the table and laying her head down on it, facing him, “We have so many bottles at home that Mom never notices if one’s gone missing.”

“A liquor mogul _and_ a princess,” he noted, “The plot thickens.”

“You keep that up and I’ll hit you again,” she threatened, “and this time I won’t miss.”

“I wouldn’t call the first time ‘missing’ exactly,” Bellamy frowned.  Clarke knew she should feel bad but his disgruntled face only made her giggle.  “Oh, I’m glad my pain is so amusing to you,” he gave her a sarcastic smile, “By all means, please continue.”

She did continue, her giggles turning into outright guffaws, “I can’t…believe…I actually hit you…with a baseball bat,” she gasped through fits of laughter.

“Yeah, well, I can,” he sighed, pressing the peas even tighter against his head.

It took her a few minutes but eventually she gained enough control of herself to ask, “Why are you here, anyway?  I thought you were supposed to spend the night with Roma.”

Even in the dim light, she saw his lips tighten and his jaw twitch, “Yeah, well, it seems that one’s not going to work out.”

“Oh no?  I should text Octavia.  She’ll be thrilled.  She might even try to bake you a cake.  She’ll probably burn the house down doing it, but she’ll try.”

“Hmphf,” was his only response.

“Seriously, though, that sucks,” she offered him a sympathetic smile, “Wanna talk about it?”  She figured he wouldn’t.  Bellamy never discussed his love life.  Part of that whole “mysterious” schtick.

True to form, he simply shrugged, “Not much to tell.  Just not gonna work out, that’s all.”

“Oh come on,” Clarke got up and headed for the pantry, “You had to hear me and Raven bitch about Finn for a week straight,” she grabbed Harper’s cookie jar and sat back down with a snickerdoodle halfway in her mouth, “Iss ohnly fair,” she spoke through a mouthful of cookie.

He shook his head, “You have horrible table manners.  Anyone ever tell you that?”

She swallowed and then immediately took another bite, “Is a ironic protest agin mah bourgeoisie upbrinnin.”  Bellamy laughed at that and took a cookie for himself.  Clarke swallowed and pressed on, “So what was it?  She not like that you live with a bunch of almost-teenagers?”  The sudden sour expression on his face told her she may have actually hit close to the mark.  Her eyes widened, “Are you fucking serious?  She had that much a problem with us?  I…I think I might actually be insulted.”

“Not _that_ precisely…” his voice trailed off.

Clarke frowned.  “It…its Octavia, isn’t it?” she said, speaking slowly as her thoughts processed, “She thinks its weird that you’re living in a house just because your sister’s living there.”

He looked up at her with surprise, “Yeah, actually.  That’s exactly what she said.  She was insisting that I move out, get my own place, maybe even look for a place with her.  Told her I wasn’t leaving O, not yet.  She…didn’t take it well.”

“Ugh, that’s so stupid,” Clarke scoffed.  She dunked a peanut butter cookie into the whiskey, ignoring the disgusted look Bellamy threw at her, “You practically raised Octavia and its been just you and her for what, like five years now?  Of course you weren’t gonna move (what was it, one thousand miles from your hometown?) just to live all the way across the city from her.   _Duh_.”  As she bit down, she noticed him looking at her with a really weird expression on his face.  “Wha?” she asked around a mouthful of alcoholic cookie.

“Nothing,” he shook his head and winced at the movement, “Its just…that’s what I told her.  That’s…almost verbatim, actually.”  He sounded almost impressed.

“Well, I think you made the right choice,” Clarke shrugged.

“Oh, thanks,” he responded, voice dripping with sarcasm, “You know how I always desperately require your approval of all my dating choices.”

She made a face in response.  They lapsed into silence and for a few minutes the only sounds were the pitter-patter of the rain and the clunk of the whiskey glass as they took turns drinking.

Finally, Clarke shook her head, still annoyed, “Seriously, that’s just so stupid,” she repeated, “Its like…hello, does she even know who she’s dating?” he was looking at her strangely again but she plowed on anyway, “Also, Octavia is the absolute coolest and she is friends with the absolute coolest people- i.e. us- so why the hell wouldn’t you want to live here?  And you don’t just try to make people choose between you and their family.  That’s just…its just so…” she waved her hands around, trying to find the right word, “ _rude_.”

  
He was still wearing that strange expression, the one she couldn’t place.  It was almost thoughtful but also a bit…confused?  No, not confused.  Maybe like…like he had found a missing piece to a puzzle and the picture on the puzzle box was finally making sense.  But Clarke couldn’t figure out why he’d be looking at her like that when all she was doing was stating the painfully obvious.  Clarke hated not being able to figure things out.

“Oh my god, _what_?” she demanded.

Bellamy started, “ _What_ what?”

“What is it?  Why are you staring at me like that?”

His gaze dropped to the table, “I wasn’t staring.”  Clarke went to respond that _Yes, yes he was too staring_ but he cut her off with a quick grin, “So, how was that haunted house going?  It seemed like it was getting pretty tense when the power cut out”

Ah, crap.   _Busted._

 


	2. July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long (life exploded on my a little bit) but the second chapter is here! As this was originally a one shot fic, I decided to do a flashback chapter to fill in some background info. Enjoy!

_July_

 

She could have been on a cruise.

 

She could have been sitting on the balcony of a private stateroom, sipping some fruity drink and watching the Alaskan countryside drift by.

 

But no.

 

No, Clarke Griffin had to be  _independent_ .

 

Which was why, when her mother and father showed her the cruise line brochure, she had told them  _thanks, but no thanks._ She had got a job working as an orientation guide with Ark University's Admissions Office. She was a strong, independent girl, who was too busy making her  own  way in the world to take all-expenses-paid jaunts across the continent.

 

Which was why, instead of flipping through magazines by the pool in her extremely cute bikini, she was standing on the glaringly white paving stones outside of the student center, wearing khakis and sweating like a pig.

 

_Sometimes, Griffin, you are a real disappointment_ , she thought to herself. It was not the first time.

 

It wasn't a completely terrible job, she had to admit. The pay was decent and it was fun to shepherd the flocks of wide-eyed new students around campus, most of them hanging on to her every word as though she was, dare she think it,  _cool_ . Clarke was a lot of things, but she had never  been audacious enough (or misguided enough) to think of herself as cool.

 

S he certainly wasn't cool now. It was hard to forget that Ark University made its home in the Deep South, especially on a day like today. Whatever idiot had designed the student center had forgotten to plant any trees within 500 yards of the place, so there was nothing to block the sun that beat down on her head and cooked the humidity in the air until it felt like she was breathing in soup. She grimaced as she unstuck  her damp hair from her  sweat-covered neck, twisting it up into a bun. 

 

Being independent was so over rated.

 

At least her day was almost done. Her tours were over and all she had to do was hang out by one of the information tables for another hour or so. Then she could head home, make herself a mint julep, and stick her feet straight into a bucket of ice water.

 

The last tour was coming up the sidewalk now, lead by Monty.  He waved to Clarke, looking so cheerful it was almost offensive, especially in this heat. 

 

"Well that's about it from me, folks," he called as they halted near her table, "I hope you all enjoyed your day.  I'll be hanging out with Clarke here for a bit, if there's any more questions.  Otherwise, we'll be happy to see you in the fall!"

 

The group started wandering apart, with most people heading straight for the sanctuary of the air conditioned building behind her.  Monty walked over to Clarke, accepting her lazy high five.  "Have you seen Jasper?  He was gonna come meet us up so we can go grab dinner."

 

She shook her head, "No, but I'm sure he's getting into trouble somewhere around here."

 

As if on cue, the door nearest them opened and Jasper came loping out, grinning like an idiot.  "Guess what I did?" he said by way of greeting.

 

"Better not be anything stupid," Clarke replied, "And what on God's green earth do you have on your head?"

 

He reached up and readjusted the ski goggles strapped around his messy dark hair, "Looks cool, doesn't it?"

 

"Jasper, its hotter than the devil's ass crack.  Why in the hell are you doin' wearin' ski goggles?"

 

"It's  _ futuristic _ , Clarke," he stated emphatically.  Before she could tell him that that answer made no sense, he turned to Monty, "So, how young did people think you were today?"

 

Monty rolled his eyes, "Somebody actually thought I was thirteen!" he grumbled, indignation creeping into his  voice , "I mean, I know I look young.  But  _ thirteen _ ?  Really?  What university would hire a thirteen year old tour guide?  That's not even legal!"

 

"Aw, don't be too upset, little buddy.  I think you look at least thirteen and a half."  Jasper tried to ruffle his hair but Monty pushed his hand away.  Jasper retaliated by smacking at Monty's arm.

 

"What were you going to tell us, Jasper?" Clarke cut in, before the situation turned into an all out slap battle.

 

"Oh, right! I found another roommate!  Her name's Harper.  She's starting here in the fall.  I was walking by and I heard her telling her mama how she didn't like the dorms, on account of they don't have kitchens, and -get this- she bakes stuff.  Like, cookies and shit.  So I just sort of pretended I was in the tour group and casually let slip that I was living in my great aunt Maude's house and we needed roommates and the oven is, like, fucking huge.  She's coming by to see it tonight," he leaned in and whispered, "Do you think she'd make us pot brownies? Because I dropped the hint but she didn't really answer me."

 

Clarke's jaw dropped, "Jasper, please God, tell me you did not walk into a group of new students  _ and their parents _ and ask someone if she could make pot b r ownies for you."

 

"Psht, no," he was looking everywhere but at her, "I just...you know...hinted..."

 

"Oh good lord," she groaned, "I swear to God-"

 

"Look, it's fine, okay? No need to be bringing our good Lord into this," the younger boy gave her a placating smile, "Her and her mom are coming round to check it out tonight and they'll meet you and then her mama'll think we're all respectable and then we'll have an endless supply of cookies all year!  And now that we have Raven, too, that means we only have to fill up one more bedroom and the attic and then we're good to go!"

 

"Raven said yes?" That was welcome news.  With Raven around, she wouldn't have to kill Jasper in his sleep.  Raven would probably do it for her.

 

"Yeah, I told her she could have the cellar for her tools and stuff."

 

Clarke arched an eyebrow, "Does your mama know you're lettin' people set up engineering labs in her house?  Because I am not getting kicked out-"

 

"Wait, shh!" he went to put a hand over her mouth but somehow ended up stroking her face.

 

She batted his hand away, "Damn it, Jasper, what-"

 

"Shh! Clarke, stop!  Monty...Monty, who is that?  Was she in your group?"    
  
Monty and Clarke followed his gaze, which was trained on one of the few people left on the sidewalk- a slim girl with long dark hair, twisted up into a complex system of braids.  She was talking to a similarly dark haired guy, taller and older looking than her, and neither of them looked particularly pleased with the conversation. 

 

"Uhhh," Monty thought for a second, "It was a weird name, old-fashioned...Olivia?  No, Octavia.  Octavia Blake."

 

Jasper eyed the guy she was talking to, "Boyfriend?"

 

"Brother," Monty replied and Clarke suddenly saw the family resemblance, "They're from up north, she said.  Ohio or something like that," Jasper took a step forward but Monty grabbed his arm, "Dude, I wouldn't.  Her brother seems really protective.  He's been glaring at everything all day and he asked me about campus security, like, five times."

 

"I'm just gonna say hi," Jasper said, "You know, show some southern hospitality."

 

"Maybe you should let him go," Clarke folded her arms, "Does him good to get an ass whoopin' now and again."

 

Before anyone could respond to that, they heard Octavia yell, "Well, I don't know what you want me to do, Bell!  I have to live somewhere!"

 

The guy glanced around, frowning when he caught Clarke, Monty, and Jasper watching them.  Jasper smiled and went to wave but Clarke blocked his hand.  She grabbed his shoulder and turned them both around so that they were facing the student center.  Monty followed suite, rifling through the flyers on the information table as though they were suddenly of paramount importance.

 

It was quiet enough now that they could hear her brother's answer, even though he was clearly trying to keep attention to a minimum, "I told you, we can find a place somewhere-"

 

"And  _ I  _ told  _ you _ that I wanted to actually live with people  _ my own age _ for once!" Octavia seemed less concerned about the volume of her voice, “ What's the matter with that dorm, anyway?”

 

Her brother didn't answer. Throwing a brief glance over her shoulder, Clarke saw him pressing his lips together. “It just...it just doesn't look like a safe area,” he said at last.

 

“She's in Appomattox,” Monty whispered. Clarke had to admit that the brother might have a point,  then . App o mattox  Dormitory was the furthest dorm from  central  campus and one of the only ones that hadn't  yet  been renovated.  There were probably varieties of mold in those carpets  that were still unknown to science. And while the university campus itself was pretty nice, some parts of the surrounding town could be downright sketchy. App o mattox happened to be close to one of those parts. 

 

Jasper's eyes lit up, “Dude, I should go ask if-”

 

“ _ Stay out of it _ ,” Clarke hissed under her breath. If she hadn't been worried about being fired, she would have abandoned the information table as soon as Octavia's (not-entirely-bad-looking) brother had made eye contact. It was awkward enough standing here as it was; she didn't need a moon-struck Jasper blundering into what should have been a private conversation.

 

“Okay, well, let's just go ask the orientation people if there's other options,” Octavia was saying. She was clearly trying very hard to stay calm.

 

“You know there isn't, we already- O!”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke saw Octavia striding towards their table.  _ Oh boy. This should be fun. _ Clarke turned and plastered on her very best customer-service smile. “Hi!” she chirped, “How can I help y'all?”

 

“Hi, yeah, I was just talking to my brother Bellamy here,” Octavia pointed to Bellamy, who was standing  beside her  with his arms crossed and a glower on his face, “ And we just had a quick question I was hoping you could answer?”

 

“Yeah, no problem!”

 

“Actually, we're fine,” Bellamy cut in, “We don't want to bother you. You seem busy.”

 

She felt a surge of annoyance.  _ Oh, so that's how you're gonna play this. _ The guy had every right to be concerned about his sister's safety but he did not have the right to keep her from at least asking questions. She made a show of looking around the deserted courtyard before saying sweetly, “Oh no, it's no trouble at all! And, you know, it's my job. Answerin ' questions,” she pointed to the large button pinned underneath her name tag, the one that said in big bold letters  **QUESTIONS ANSWERED HERE** _**.** _

 

“Yeah, so as I was saying,” Octavia stepped in front of him, “They put me in the Appomattox Dorm but I was  thinking about trying to switch. Do you know if there's any other dorms that are about the same cost?”

 

“Ummm,” the short answer was  _ no _ , but Clarke didn't want to say  that. F or some reason, she really didn't want Bellamy to win the argument that she now felt involved in. Maybe it was because he had turned his scowl on her now, one eyebrow raised as if in challenge. And Clarke  Griffin never failed to rise to a challenge. Still, she couldn't outright lie. Finally, she said, “Unfortunately, there aren't any other on-campus options that are as cost effective, at least none that are open to freshm e n. But-”

 

“Have you seen it?” Bellamy demanded.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“The dorm,” he spat, “Have you seen it? Its a pile of crap located next to other, more dangerous piles of crap.”

 

With a tremendous effort, Clarke kept the smile on her face, trying very hard to remember all of the lessons they had been given on dealing with angry parents. “All of the campus accommodations are on schedule to be renovated. That schedule has not reached Appomattox yet and that fact is reflected in the price.”

 

“It's where they put the scholarship kids, isn't it?” he said, ignoring Octavia when she hissed his name in warning, “The kids who got in with need-based scholarships. They shove them in that shit hole and then use the financial aid statistics to get the tax breaks that paid for that giant football stadium and the president's private plane. And if the students don't like the building or if one of them gets mugged every now and again, well that's just too bad. Their parents won't be making any big donations any time soon, so who the hell cares anyway, right?”

 

_ O kay, you know what? Fuck customer service.  _ Clarke drew in a deep breath and was about to demand to know exactly who the fuck this guy thought he was when Jasper all but threw himself in front of her, “You'll have to excuse Clarke and Monty. They work for admissions so they have to say all that. But what they  _ would _ say, if they could, is that you're totally right. It's a pile of shit.  And the other dorms are way- like,  _ totally-  _ over priced. Most people live off campus. Like us, for example, we live in a big ol' house up Tesla Hill,” he waved his hand in a vague direction, “ My name's Jasper, by the way, Jasper Jordan,” he gave Octavia's hand an enthusiastic shake, “ And wouldn't ya know it? We're looking for two more roommates!” he grinned. Octavia, however, seemed skeptical and Bellamy's scowl remained unchanged. Undaunted by this, Jasper pressed on, “It's a super nice house and it's in a real nice area and I can  _ guaran-damn-tee _ you that it's the cheapest rent you'll find on that side of town.”

 

“And you're...you're  a  freshm a n?” Octavia asked, eying the goggles on his head.

 

“Oh, well,” Jasper laughed and gave her what he clearly thought was a suave look, “Monty and I  are eighteen but we started a year early, on account of us being geniuses, and Clarke's regular smart so we're all sophomores this semester.”

 

“But we do have another freshman moving in,” Monty added  quickly , “A girl.”

 

“And we have quite the large upper level with its own bathroom, just perfect for an older, more independent gentleman such as yourself,” Jasper pointed at Bellamy.

 

“When can we take a look at it?” Octavia asked.

 

Clarke sputtered, “What?!” at the same time Bellamy said “No!”  Clarke glared at him and he glared right back. Clarke couldn't imagine having to live with this jerk and besides, she had been planning on taking the attic floor  for herself  once summer was over and it stopped being stiflingly hot up there all  the time .  It had a wall of built in bookshelves and the best sun exposure in the house.

 

“ Well, Harper, the other freshman, she's coming by round seven tonight,” Jasper  pulled out a piece of paper on which he had scrawled their address, “So if that works for y 'all ?”

 

“Sounds great!” Octavia beamed and started  yanking on her brother's arm , “ We'll see you then!  There's a pop machine in here, right?” she pointed at the student center.

 

“A what?”

 

But Octavia didn't answer, just pulled Bellamy towards the door. They could hear his annoyed voice as the pair disappeared into the building.

 

“ Oh man,” Jasper whispered, “Am I smooth or what?”

 

Clarke's hand hit his arm with a resounding smack.

 

By the time seven o'clock rolled around, Clarke had eaten a solid meal and taken a cold shower and was therefore feeling far less murderous towards Jasper.  It helped that Harper Wolfe was one of the sweetest girls on the planet.  She and her mother arrived exactly on time and presented them with a box of doughnuts.  ("Y'all worked so hard on that orientation; you deserve a treat," Mrs. Wolfe had said with a smile.)  They ooo'd and ahh'd over the crown  moldings and the fireplace in Harper's room.  They exclaimed over the size of the oven; Harper kept saying that she couldn't  _ believe _ they "had a 1949 Chamber stove in mint condition, just sitting right there!" over and over for five minutes straight.  Mrs. Wolfe called up Jasper's parents not five minutes after that and they left with a promise to be back on move-in day.

 

By eight thirty, Clarke was beginning to think the Blakes weren't going to show up at all.  She wondered if she had somehow missed them.  But that was unlikely.  She had been reading on the front porch since the Wolfes had left and had the perfect view of the  winding driveway and the street beyond.  She had finished five chapters and an entire beer but Tesla Hill had remained devoid of  traffic, apart from the occasion pack of kids on bikes .  She was about to head inside when she heard the sound of an engine. 

 

It was a bright red pickup truck, moving a bit more slowly than the speed limit called for, with someone hanging half way out of the passenger side window. It stopped next to their mailbox, brakes squeaking, and even though the house stood well back from the road, she could hear Octavia Blake's voice drifting up the sloping front yard. “I told you this was the right way!” she was yelling, “Would you just go up the fucking driveway?!” Her head disappeared back into the cab but the truck didn't move. Clarke stood and gave a hesitant wave, just so they would be sure they had the right house. It took a few more seconds but eventually she heard the engine rev and the truck started climbing towards her.

 

“Jonty!” she yelled threw the open window behind her, “Y'all pause whatever game that is and get out here.”

 

J asper and Monty hit the porch just as Bellamy parked the truck. It had Ohio plates and looked so ancient, Clarke was honestly surprised it had made it the trip. She also didn't miss the fact that the truck bed was crammed full with suitcases and boxes. But surely the Blakes weren't planning on moving in that very night?

 

Fifteen minutes later, it had become apparent that they were.


End file.
